


Taking a Day Off

by keelywolfe



Series: by any other name [13]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Underfell (Undertale), Alternate Universe - Underswap (Undertale), Fluff, Hand Jobs, M/M, Sex, Spicyhoney - Freeform, Underfell Papyrus (Undertale), Underswap Papyrus (Undertale), Undertale Monsters on the Surface
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-09
Updated: 2018-09-09
Packaged: 2019-07-10 09:48:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15946847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keelywolfe/pseuds/keelywolfe
Summary: Sometimes Edge needs a little help taking time off work





	Taking a Day Off

* * *

“trust me, antwan, six-month anniversaries are a thing,” Stretch said into his phone. He shifted to prop his feet on the back of the couch and gave the muted tv an absent glance. “i mean, don’t buy him like a car or a tiara or something, but take him out to a nice dinner. he eats too much mac and cheese and you know it’s too much if i’m telling you because i will eat that shit for breakfast.” He sat up in indignation, “i’m going to pretend you didn’t say that, kraft dinner only, you heathen, none of that velveeta bullshit! i always knew you were an evil lawyer.”

“yeah, yeah, go back to work. i’ll wait to tell edge what’s going on when it’s too late for him to go in on his day off, okay? nah, don’t feel bad, only your best friends plot against you for your benefit. thanks, by the way. see ya.”

He hit the end button and tossed his phone on the coffee table, stretching until his bones popped. Plotting against his boyfriend to keep him from working sixty-hour weeks was exhausting. 

Time to see what the edgelord was up to. Stretch moseyed his way to the kitchen and carefully pushed open the door, leaning against the jamb to watch his lover work. His back was to the door and he was chopping something with loud vigor, scraping it up occasionally into a bowl before moving on to something else. Music was playing softly, one of those awful easy listening stations Edge loved, and he swore if he heard Barry Manilow, he was out of here. Then again, the slight sway of Edge’s hips as he followed the beat of the music did have a certain entertainment value. Not quite as narrow as his or Papyrus’s but Edge’s pelvis was certainly a fine feature presentation. 

The differences between them all were interesting from a scientific point of view, considering that physically at least they were essentially the same person. 

Edge always called him pretty, which was sort of sweet and sort of hot. It kinda made sense; Stretch was taller than both Edge or Papyrus by a good couple of inches but he was slimmer than either of them. He suspected that a touch better nutrition as a kid had contributed to his height but his HP affected his bone density. He’d seen the same effect in the Sanses. So that left him as the slim, pretty fuckboy.

Edge, on the other hand, had years of fighting and LV to contribute to his bulk and where Stretch had a little bump on his ulna from where he’d broken it as a child, Edge had plenty of scars where the bones had broken and then grown back stronger. It shouldn’t be hot, it really shouldn’t and whenever someone wanted to convince Stretch’s libido of that would be fine.

Interesting too was their choice of dress. Stretch didn’t much give a shit, he wore what felt good, full stop, but Edge was a clothes horse, hands down. Tailored suits for work and yeah, maybe it was an extravagance but hell, it wasn’t like off the rack was gonna fit and Stretch sure wasn’t about to argue with the results.

On his days off, if he was riding his motorcycle, it was leathers and denim, but Stretch wasn’t gonna lie, he liked best what Edge wore when it was just the two of them at home. Oh, he wasn’t about to wear any grungy sweatpants and lounge, not his baby; even the fucker’s pajamas were silk, but here he tended to wear softer clothes, comfort clothes and right now in a pair of wonderfully form fitting jeans and a soft pullover, he was fucking delectable. 

What a burden Stretch had to bear, resisting that all the time. So, fuck it, he wasn’t gonna. 

Sneaking up on Edge could have unforeseen consequences; he’d learned that quickly. They’d almost ended up with matching cracks in their sockets. You could take the boy out of Underfell, but you couldn’t take the punchy out of the boy.

But since Edge was a complete sucker where Stretch was concerned, if he made enough noise to let Edge know he was there, he’d let Stretch ‘sneak up’ on him without risk of injury. It was a great system as far as Stretch was concerned and he used it shamelessly now to wrap his arms around Edge from behind.

“What are you doing?” Edge sounded amused, a promising sign.

“feeling you up,” Stretch told him honestly. He could feel Edge sigh, even as he leaned back a little against him.

“You do realize I’m trying to cook.”

Yep, Stretch could see that. Bowls filled with several different kinds of precisely chopped vegetation and one bowl filled with scraps for the chickens. “you’re chopping veggies, don’t think that’s too time sensitive.”

Edge hummed in what might be agreement and Stretch took the moment to slide a hand down to the front of his jeans, settling it over the warmth of his crotch where a nice bulge greeted him. Hard to play disinterested when your body gave you away. 

Heh, hard.

“What are you doing?” Edge asked again but this time his voice was thicker, languid. He set down his knife, his hands resting on the cutting board. 

“what does it feel like?” Stretch whispered against the side of his skull, his voice hardly more than a deep vibration and felt Edge shiver. Oh, yeah, Edge has always loved his voice, loved to hear him whimper and beg, the shit.

Edge laughed, a little breathlessly, “You know what it feels like, you have one of your own.”

“uh huh,” Yep, he did, and pressed up against Edge like he was, it was pretty obvious. He let his voice fall lower, softer, and added, “you want me to stop?”

A long slow breath. “No.”

“good. keep your hands there.”

For a moment, Stretch thought he would balk; Edge tended to be pretty dominant in bed and it wasn’t like Stretch minded. The not-dominant person got to take it easy and enjoy the ride.

Instead, he exhaled slowly and turned his hands to rest them palm down on the cutting board. Stretch was pressed up right behind him, his hips against Edge’s pelvis and he felt it as Edge shifted against him. “Do you want me to…?” He began and there was a touch of uncertainty in his voice that Stretch did not like one bit.

Edge was nothing if not a generous lover and if he thought Stretch wanted to fuck him for a change, he’d be willing. Stretch honestly wasn’t sure if Edge had had sex with anyone before him, he hadn’t asked and Edge hadn’t told, but he was a hundred and ten percent sure that no one else had ever fucked him. He'd let Stretch, but problem was, Edge probably wouldn’t enjoy it, not enough, and he’d only be embarrassed and frustrated by his inability to come. They’d given it a try a few times early on and it seemed like it just wasn’t his thing; not made any easier by the fact he didn’t have Stretch’s knack of giving himself both sets of playthings at the same time. Stretch thought it was probably that he couldn’t relax enough to manage it, no matter what position they tried. Maybe early on Edge hadn’t trusted him enough, who the fuck knew, but it hadn’t been worth trying again. 

Maybe someday Edge would want to revisit it or maybe someday Stretch would get him a magic wand massager and lock him in the bedroom for an hour to figure it out for himself. Either way, Stretch didn’t give a damn. He didn’t care if he was top, bottom, sideways, or upside down. He was up for anything.

Besides, Edge’s reticence didn’t extend to going down on him and Stretch liked to think that was a perfectly acceptable alternative.

“fuck, no,” Stretch murmured and he didn’t think he imagined Edge relaxing a little against him. Only to tense when Stretch unzipped his jeans, sliding both hands through his fly to cup him. “when i have a lovely dick like this to play with?”

“Lovely?” Edge wasn’t quite laughing.

“um, yeah, don’t you even know what a lovely cock you have?” Stretch murmured and he swore he felt it throb in his grip. He knew he heard Edge inhale sharply.

Well, now.

“oh, you like that,” Stretch purred in delight.

“I always like to hear you talk,” Edge tried to dismiss it, but oh, no, Stretch had his number. Shouldn’t be surprised, really, anyone who spent as much time on their appearance as Edge did would like hearing about it. Yeah, he could work with this. 

“you know, i’ve always loved the color of your magic. your trait, determination,” he breathed it. He kept his hands busy, one curled around the base of the shaft, holding it steady while he stroked with the other, “i love you, you know that, so you’d think it was a given, but i don’t think so. i loved it before i loved you. that deep, rich crimson, gorgeous.”

“and i love your cock,” Stretch let his voice lower into a groan, felt Edge trembling against him, “feels so good inside me, you always hit that one little spot that feels so good right…here…” he rubbed a thumb over the head, slicking it through a wet bead of magic glistening at the tip. His hands were tainted with streaks of crimson against the delicate whiteness of bone, the brilliant red of his cock sliding in his grip. Denim was rough against the back of his hands, scraping lightly, and Edge was quivering against him, his breathing ragged. 

“gorgeous, so gorgeous,” he whispered. He could hear the slippery, obscene sound of his hands moving, “gorgeous when i make you feel good, you want it harder, baby? want it tighter, tight like my cunt is, tight all around that lovely cock of yours?”

“ _Fuck!_ ” Edge spat the word, ground it out, his hips following the rhythm of Stretch’s hands and close, yeah, he was getting there.

“you wanna come for me?” Stretch crooned. He tightened his grip, went a little faster, a little more. “wanna come all over me? wanna paint me that gorgeous crimson, mark me with your magic?”

Edge might think he was the pretty one but Stretch would testify there was nothing lovelier than Edge sagging against him, his head fallen against Stretch’s shoulder as he moaned in desperation, his hips jerking as he came in hot, wet pulses over Stretch’s hands.

He weighed a decent amount more than Stretch but not more than he could hold up. There was a stack of clean towels on the counter as there always was when Edge was cooking, and Stretch snagged one, gently cleaning his lover while Edge leaned weakly against him and panted. It was only then that Stretch noticed the curls of wood from the cutting board around Edge’s fingertips where he’d gouged it.

Oops.

Carefully, Stretch cleaned Edge up before refastening his pants and turned away to wash his hands. When he turned back around Edge was leaning against the counter, arms crossed over his chest and glaring at him.

“And you keep saying I’m perverted.”

“that was nice, clean dirty sex,” Stretch corrected. He grinned. “you liked it.”

“Few could deny it,” Edge said dryly. He gave Stretch’s crotch a pointed look. “Care for a taste of your own medicine?”

“nah, it’ll keep.” Stretch decided. He wanted it, sure, but he wanted that burn to sit and simmer a little longer. Long enough for Edge to finish cooking anyway. “come see me in an hour, babe.”

“No, you’re going to come when you see me,” Edge promised darkly and Stretch couldn’t help his own shiver. A pun and a promise, hallelujah, he was going to be walking crooked tomorrow.

Worth it.

-finis-


End file.
